


Undone

by Vayaonline



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Route Spoilers (Mystic Messenger), Casual Sex, Crushes, Deep Route Spoilers (Mystic Messenger), Developing Friendships, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Life, Drinking, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Female Main Character (Mystic Messenger), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gun Violence, Heartache, Heartbreak, Light Bondage, Love Triangles, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Original Character(s), Our mc loves her secrets, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trust Issues, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, i am trash for found family and also hurting people, main character uses two names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vayaonline/pseuds/Vayaonline
Summary: If you only knew one side of her, were you ever really in love?
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel & Original Character(s), Han Jumin & Original Character(s), Han Jumin/Original Character(s), Kang Jaehee (Mystic Messenger) & Original Character(s), Kim Yoosung & Original Character(s), Vanderwood (Mystic Messenger) & Original Character(s), Vanderwood (Mystic Messenger)/Original Character(s), Zen | Ryu Hyun & Original Character(s), Zen | Ryu Hyun/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm tagging material that is or will be included in this fic at the outset of posting, but be aware that tagged material you don't see in the first or subsequent chapters is part of the overall plot. This is a long haul fic. Happy reading!_

If there was one truth to the world, it was that every city had its secrets. Vanderwood had learned it quickly with the agency, jumping city to city as he had, and it stuck with him as surely as his handgun. In every city, there was something—speakeasies, where liquor was outlawed, or brothels, where selling sex was still taboo—to keep the wealthy entertained and the working class aspiring. He’d watched authorities turn a blind eye to such things for years, sharing knowing glances and nervous smiles. He knew their logic all too well. If they didn’t _see it_ , then they didn’t _know_ , and if they didn’t _know_ , well. There was nothing to be done.

Seoul, of course, was no different.

It was all word of mouth, and he only knew because he was paid to. A gentleman’s club hidden away somewhere in Gangnam. A refuge for the wealthy and elite, where beautiful women in deliciously risque clothing danced and chattered and flirted for cash. Not selling _sex_ , but the idea of it, the fantasy that the woman on your lap might wink and smile and lead you to bed with her. 

A visit to Seoul always ended with Vanderwood seated at a dim table, unnoticed and unobtrusive, watching patrons pay the toll to try their luck with the dancers. It was the patrons that had drawn him in, the first time. The rich made no effort to hide their face, and the place was a goldmine for a man like Vanderwood. Simply walking through the door was enough to end a man’s career. The rolls of ₩10,000 bills slipped between hands—or, more dangerously, into waistbands and necklines—could destroy entire lives.

He kept a running list of every name that might be useful. Saejoong Choi was the first he caught, leering up at a girl in a flouncy pink set. Not that he needed anything else on Saejoong Choi, but, he reasoned, why swing the axe when a well-thrown knife would do just fine? He’d spotted the C&R Chairman a handful of times as well, pouring more bills than Vanderwood could count into the hands of a young woman in a glimmering silver slip. Once, it might have been strange to see such an influential man go rosy and pink at the whispered words of a woman, but he’d seen it the world over. Few things surprised him anymore.

Months had passed since his last visit, but even still, security nodded him through the doors politely and escorted him through the maze of hallways as they did with every patron. Vanderwood knew the way by memory, but it was better if they thought he was as oblivious as the rest. He’d caught whispers, once or twice, among servers and staff, wondering if he had foreign money or gang ties. Neither were true—and the truth was worse—but they served him just the same. The dancers didn’t notice him after he settled in with his drink. They never did. A blessing in disguise really, since he didn’t have eyes for any of them. 

Except for her, of course.

Her eyes found him first, and that, too, was part of the routine. A flat stare, dark eyes that never quite caught the glimmering light, all sharpness and edge and mystery, with the promise of something more, maybe, if you behaved. The glossy black set she wore left little to the imagination, her waist bare between the bustier and the high-cut briefs that drew the eye to the curve of her hips, but still, every guest spent a few moments undressing her with their eyes. Vanderwood wondered idly how many of the rich fools around him actually thought they might still take her to bed. After all, Jiyun never went home with anyone. 

As quickly as she’d found him, her eyes flickered away, and her rouged lips curled into a cruel smile. He took another generous sip of his whiskey and glanced at his cell. Typical. Not a word from Seven about his progress on the data package. With his luck, he’d hear tomorrow night that his partner had finished his work hours and hours ago. Vanderwood sighed. It didn’t matter. They were ahead of schedule, for once, and with any luck it would be out of their hands—

A glimpse of Jiyun bent enticingly forward over a table to speak to a patron thoroughly stamped out any thoughts of work. Every asset available to her was on display, and Vanderwood couldn’t bring himself to stop his eyes from tracking up and up, from her high heeled shoes to the tempting curve of her back as she leaned forward. He could only imagine the man’s view from his seat, only a few short inches from that wicked smirk. Vanderwood took another heavy sip of his drink. 

Yes, work would have to wait.

He blinked and she had straightened, dark hair waving down her back and pooling at her collarbones. With a few lazy steps, she closed the distance between herself and Vanderwood, the shifting light setting those dark eyes glittering like stars. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Her fingers ghosted against the hard line of his jaw.

“Call it something else then.”

She smiled, and Vanderwood shivered at the sight. “I don’t think you’re in the position to make requests of me.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

She hummed thoughtfully, head tilted to one side, as though she might actually consider his request. Instead, she slipped into his lap on the chair, knees planted firmly on either side of his hips. Vanderwood kept his eyes up, locked firmly on hers, and she smiled again. He could see, just barely, the sway of her against him as her body kept pace to the music. 

“I don’t take orders from strange men in dark clubs.” He had wondered, once, if the soft velvet purr of her voice was something she’d specially curated. But he was sure, or at least, as sure as he could be, that she simply spoke that way. 

In the distance, he could hear the laughter and gossip, staged whispers of _“Jiyun is so bold!”_ and _“Lucky guy…”_ from the other girls she worked with. One hand raised his glass to his lips, and the other slipped a folded stack of cash just beneath the edge of her bustier. 

“But you’ll take their money,” he mused. A smile of his own rose as she laughed quietly.

“And I’ll spend it, too.” She was gone as quickly as she’d come, sauntering off to some unsuspecting man who was too drunk and too simple to do anything but hand her cash and stare.

Vanderwood glanced at his watch: it was nearly one. “About time, then,” he murmured. He watched Jiyun for a few short minutes, scoffed quietly when she tugged a man across the table by his tie, and then he returned to security, who led him through the maze back to the door he’d walked through only a few short hours before. He settled into his car, the leather seats chilled from the brisk evening air, and pulled around to the alley behind the building. 

“Should be good,” he said, pulling the key from the ignition. Vanderwood swung himself out of the car, locked the thing with the press of a button, and settled in against the wall of the alley with a cigarette. “You know where to find me.”

Fifteen minutes later, the thick metal service door creaked open. 

A figure draped in black, bag thrown hastily over one shoulder, glanced around cautiously before spotting him. The black mask covered the unreadable smile, but he knew, of course, that it was her. 

It always was.

“You really shouldn’t leave through an alley,” he scolded. “Anyone could be waiting out here.”

The headlights on the car flashed as he clicked it unlocked, and Jiyun rolled her eyes as she swung into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, like a weird guy with a car.” She laughed at the pursed lips and furrowed brow he wore as he settled behind the wheel. The car started with a sigh, and slid smoothly onto the main road with nary another sound. Jiyun was used to it. A silent car for a silent man. “Anyway, I only leave this way when you come to the club.”

“So you leave out the front door the rest of the time then?”

“That’s how I come in.”

“That’s even worse,” Vanderwood grumbled. He twirled the wheel to the left and the city lights fell behind them rapidly.

Jiyun rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll just leave out the secret entrance in the kitchen that I’m gonna make with a sledgehammer.”

“You know, you really—”

“Look, I’m _fine._ I’m not exactly new to this, you know?”

In the quiet light of the passing streetlights, his tawny eyes flickered wildly between a dangerous darkness and crystal concern. She wondered if he was always so painfully easy to read, or if it was just to her and just about this. Or, of course, if it was only this way when it didn’t matter much to him. 

Another sudden turn and the car stopped, and he killed the engine with a single flick of his fingers. “We’re here.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” 

The hotel was nondescript, which Jiyun had decided must be one of his only criteria for his stays in Seoul. Plain buildings with identical windows and simple names, well-kept but sparsely decorated. At first, she’d thought it an odd choice. He was well dressed, in expensive coats and cashmere sweaters and silk dress shirts. Most men she knew who dressed like Vanderwood went for glitzy spots deep in the city. Not nameless places in the suburbs. But she could see, as they walked through the dim hotel lobby with his hand brushing the small of her back, how well he fit there. It was just another place he wouldn’t be found. Unless he wanted to be. 

The room this time was floor fourteen, and she could see Seoul in the distance from the window. Vanderwood brushed her aside and started his meticulous process with the door locks. Jiyun was sure that no hotel came with so many bolts and fastenings on the door, but every place she’d been with him, there had been at least seven. 

“You should shower. You smell like cheap vanilla and cotton candy.” 

“I know.” She grimaced. “Eun-ah got it all over the dressing room. Her clients are all a little too fond of the food-focused perfumes.”

She watched appreciatively as he slid out of his coat and sweater, leaving him only in a violet silk shirt, undone down to his sternum. He barely seemed to notice. “Eun-ah’s clients are disgusting.”

“But they pay well,” Jiyun replied. “I’ll be back in five.” He only hummed in acknowledgement.

The shower was quick, even by her standards, just a flash of heat and bubbles to scrub the grime of the club from her body. She caught a glimpse of herself in the foggy mirror as she wound the towel right around her: face flushed from the heat, lips still tinted with the remnant of the scarlet lipstick, eyes interminably dark. It was strange, what a difference only a few quick slicks of makeup could do to a person. With a sigh, she turned and swung the bathroom door open, only to bump straight into Vanderwood’s chest as he leaned easily on the doorframe just beyond. 

It was easy to forget how tall he was compared to her. “Can I help you?”

A hand brushed damp hair back behind her ear and trailed down the back of her neck, leaving tingling trails the wake of his fingertips. “Maybe.” His other hand slid easily to the small of her back. 

“I just got out of the shower.”

“Mm.” Fingers danced over her shoulder and down her collarbone. “You did.”

“I’m wet.”

“Wasn’t that the plan tonight anyway?”

Jiyun smirked and slid her palms up his chest to rest just beneath his open collar. The move shifted the towel she was wrapped in dangerously. Really, the only thing holding it up was the gentle press of their bodies and the hand on her back. “You’re in rare form tonight.”

“Am I?”

She pressed closer with narrowed, glittering eyes. “You are.”

He sighed a laugh, and she felt the slow slip of his hand up her back before deft fingers worked the loose wrap of the towel undone. It fell away from everything but the space between them, and with a quick tug, it was on the floor, leaving her bare in the space between his chest and the bathroom door.

“This is hardly fair,” Jiyun breathed. He caught her hands before they could move to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, wrapping her wrists together in one hand. “I could stand to see a little more of you.”

“You could stand to learn a little patience.” And with his free hand, he swept her off the ground and tossed her squarely on the bed, sending a thrill through her that left goosebumps in its wake.

Jiyun had spent many nights with Vanderwood in hotels like this. Playful, bantering, undressed and, by morning’s light, thoroughly overblissed. She was quite accustomed to the way he moved with a leisurely grace toward the bed, and the way he slid his body overtop of hers, propped up on one forearm as if his weight were nothing. And she was deeply, intimately familiar with the teasing brush of his lips against the faintest edge of hers. Enough to tremble. Enough to spark. Not enough to satisfy. But the cruel skate of rough fingertips over her stomach was new. Torturous, even for him. 

“Don’t worry, though. You’ll learn,” he said. 

“I was never a good student.” She reached her hands toward his shirt again, and lightning quick, her wrists were wrapped up in his hand and slammed to the mattress above her head. 

Vanderwood clicked his tongue at her, and the dangerous gleam in his eyes had her nervous and excited in equal measure. “Are you going to follow my instructions or are you going to be difficult?”

Jiyun bucked her hips beneath him and he sighed. “Difficult. Okay.” With his free hand, he slid his belt from his waist. A few creative motions and makeshift cuffs appeared, which he slid over her wrists before drawing them tight. He tugged them once to hook them over the headboard and then sat back on his knees, his eyes never leaving hers. 

She stared back, eyes leaving him only once, to flicker over toward the still-glowing lamp on the bedside table. He laughed, and she knew he saw. He noticed everything, somehow. 

His hands finally, mercifully, set to work on the buttons of his shirt. At the sight of his skin being bared inch by inch, Jiyun let out a gentle moan. Vanderwood couldn’t stop the smirk that grew as he shrugged the silk from his shoulders. 

“The light stays on.”

***

It was still dim when her eyes flew open, though the grey haze of dawn was slowly filtering in through the window. Vanderwood breathed steadily beside her, and she sighed with relief. They had never woken up together, and with any luck, they never would. 

She could see the light of her phone screen on the bedside table. 

_Hyun Who Runs: heyyy minah, I’m going running in an hour or so. Meet me for a run and breakfast after?_

“Shit,” she muttered. Carefully, she slipped out of bed and into her clothes, stepping gently to avoid making even the lightest of sounds. Her phone screen went dark a second before she grabbed it, and she huffed in frustration before unlocking it to reply. 

_Bet you can’t beat my mile time today. See you in an hour!_

She glanced back at Vanderwood as she flicked the first lock on the door, praying that the single stutter in the gentle rise and fall of his chest was only a dream. 

“Somehow I’d rather you didn’t catch me sneaking out on you.” A whisper in a quiet room, only meant for herself. 

She left her number. She always did, in case he wanted to call. He never did, and that was fine. It was easier, anyway, if he didn’t call her. If he just appeared as easily as he vanished, for a night, or maybe two, and she would carry on as she always did the rest of the time, propped against a door on a train, as she was now. 

Yes, it was far easier for Vanderwood to come and go as she pleased, she thought. The phone lit up in her hand once again. 

_Hyun Who Runs: I should let you win, because I’m a gentleman, but if you’re gonna be like that, fine! Consider beast mode activated ;D_

She smiled. Far easier, indeed.


End file.
